


Letters To Tony

by Emotionalsorbet



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Early Mornings, Fluff, M/M, stony cute moments, stony short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4610658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emotionalsorbet/pseuds/Emotionalsorbet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a star spangled sap</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters To Tony

There's a ray of sunlight peering through the small slit in the curtain to Tony's left; its dancing around him, and _on_ him, and poking its way into every corner of the room. He tries to shove it away, but it's pointless, because using a pillow as a makeshift shield from the morning star is far from his best idea yet.

What time was it anyway?

His fingertips glide lightly over to the sheets beside him, touching softly in search of the blonde whom had previously utilized the space to rest. When he discovers only the absence of the person, he sits up, squinting into the bright atmosphere. The clock appears to be missing as well, though, and after a second look, it's found atop the bedside counter he hadn't been facing.

11:30 am.

Ideas start to roll in, presenting Tony with a heap of reasonings as to why he's alone on the king sized mattress. Steve probably went out for a run, like he always does ( _at the most ungodly hours, might Tony add_ ), and the theory's nearly only proven further by the comforter being drawn up on his side of the bed. In addition, the closets open, ensuring him further of the activity accounting for his lovers lack of attendance.

Tony scrubs a hand down his face before throwing off covers, pressing his palms hard into his eyes in hopes of attaining some amount of half-consciousness at least. He blinks, once, twice, and all while moving to stand. The floorboards creak under the weight of his footsteps, but if anyone is home, they don't say a word about it.

An accompanying squeak comes from the linen closet, along with the nozzle of the shower head, alerting everyone of his current state of mind without speaking a single word. Hot water beads down on his back, allowing steam to crowd over the air of the bathroom. It's then that he anticipates it, the messages. They're written on the glass of the shower stall, or on the mirror, wherever Steve remembers to scrawl out a small message on first. Mostly, the notes are simple--an ' _I love you_ ' complete with an awfully shaped heart will be drawn onto the window in the winter, or--and although it was once--a poem will cover the entire length of the countertop mirror. The letters are always smudged, and they'll faithfully be accompanied by a swipe of a hand in order to redo the original plan for the words.

Overall, Tony adores the idea of it, and so he nearly bounds down the stairs upon catching sight of Steve's note concerning the making of breakfast. At first, Steve doesn't seem to be down there. Tony takes to making coffee as a result, but the moment he's got his back to the majority of the room, two arms are wrapping around his waist, and a kiss is being pressed to his neck.

"Got your message," Tony hums, leaning into the embrace.

Steve smiles, "knew you would."


End file.
